The Line Between Truth and Deception
by ACMD
Summary: AU. Cameron is a journalist accused of writing a controversial article. Now she's on the run from both the government and a dangerous organization. What will House, as a top secret detective for the gov. do, when he finds her? Prol. and 2 chapters UP!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own House MD; it is affiliated to FOX Broadcasting Network, Heel and Toe Prods., Some Bad Hat Harry Prods., and Shore Prods., etc.

**Parings:** House/Cameron (yep, you guess it)

**Rating: **T (I will have to change the rating to M later, due to this one scene I have planned . . .)

**A/N: This idea popped inside my head so I had to abandon 'Not Without Flaws' for now and put this down in ink. (I think the med research for 'NWF' backfired, haha. I have to get away from the medical world for a while) I'm not sure about the popularity of Alternate Universe with House fics. There sure doesn't seem to be too many . . . this is my first AU fic too; let's see what you guys think.**

**(No spoilers? I don't think there are . . . well, the whole point of an AU is keeping the character' personalities but giving them a different life.)**

**-revised one word- haha, i had to get Cam's eye color right. ;) thanks reviewers.**

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The Line Between Truth and Deception_

_Prologue_

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The wind howled as if there were no tomorrow. 

Breaching the thick blur of the whirling snowstorm, the lone silhouette of a woman was vaguely visible. Her dark auburn locks were windswept loosely around her neck, and past her set shoulders. Draped in a charcoal black winter coat, she held a matching dark folder between her delicate yet steady fingers protectively against herself. Through the cleargreen of her eyes, she saw the bleak, white canvas before her. Waiting—no, pleading to be splashed with color and filled with life. _. . .But it is not for me to paint . . . _She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, savoring the peacefulness that she would soon be forced to leave behind.

Cutting the silence was the obnoxiously annoying ring of a cell phone. An agitated frown found its way across her brows as she realized it was hers. _It's not even 4am yet, who in the world could be calling…? _She reached inside her coat pocket and retrieved the silver flip screen. "Allison Cameron speaking." Her voice rivaled the clarity of her eyes, and there was an instantaneous likeability attached. But something was definitely amiss . . . hope . . ?

"Ms. Cameron." A deep, rough voice rasped somewhere from the other side of the line. Its coldness immediately put Cameron on alert. She opened her mouth to respond and hesitated. With the situation at hand, it was best to be cautious.

"Ms. Cameron." The hostile tone repeated itself. "Set the documents down on the ground."

Cameron clutched the folder a little tighter. "Who are you?" She demanded, not at the least about to give in.

"I repeat. Set the documents down on the ground and step away. Or I assure you, someone _will_ get hurt."

"Not until you reveal your identity." Cameron brewed up her courage, though the slight tremble in her voice gave away her fears.

A slow mocking laugh rang out. "Do you think this is a game, little girl? If you do not hand it over, I'm afraid there will be no choice then to buy you a ticket to join your husband . . . And bullets," He paused for emphasize, "ain't cheap."

As these last few words sounded, Cameron saw her world crashing down before her. Her knees buckled beneath her and she sank into the feet high snow all around her. Cameron did not feel its ruthless coldness; instead, she felt the rubble remains of her life collapsing. . . _No . . . no . . . I refuse to believe this . . . _Warm tears streamed down her cheeks, finding their way to the corner of her lips. Cameron tasted its bitter saltiness, she tasted loss.

For how long she crouched there Cameron did not know. Time was not of essence any more, all she knew was that you can't undo the past—the only thing she thought she ever wanted to do again. _I should never have come to Alaska . . . The article should never have been published, let alone written! We—_For a fleeting second, Cameron just wanted to die. She was sick and tired of all the lies. But then His words echoed inside her head. _Running away is not an option, Allison . . . This life, the next, there will always be complications to face . . . some tougher than others . . . _"No . . ." She managed to whisper, "Not now . . ." Cameron told herself. Then she brought her phone up against her wet cheek. "I refuse . . . I refuse! You Goddamned bastard!" Rage was uncontrollably taking over Cameron, and she knew it.

"Why you—wretched bitch! You'll regret this!"

Cameron opened her mouth to yell, but several gunshots pierced through the air, causing her to drop on her stomach instinctively. Over in the distance, shrouded by the snow adrift, she could make out the figures of three men. They were headed this way.

"Shit." Cameron cursed. She shoved her cell phone back where it came from and stood up shakily. She had to get away fast. With the dark folder still tightly clutched, Cameron started to break into a running step. _The snow is too thick! And damn these high heels! _She exhaled in frustration, keeping her speed. If she took off her shoes now, her feet would most likely freeze. _At least they should be having trouble too . . ._

Cameron took a quick glance back, the men were closing in. _Damn it. _A few more shots punctured the air and she picked up her pace, heading toward the nearest street.

"Taxi!" Cameron waved frantically at a yellow cab zooming in. A small wave of relief donned her as it stopped next to the curb. Hurriedly, she climbed in, nearly bumping her head on the car roof on her way in. "Quick, to the International Airport of Nome!" Cameron fumbled out her purse and flashed a few hundred bills. Without a word, the driver took off. _Stinking greedy asshol—just be grateful he even stopped Allison . . ._

Cameron turned her head to the back window. There was no one in sight. With that, she allowed herself to sink back into the leather seats. Cameron leaned her head back and took several deep breaths, her pounding heart was slowly returning to its normal rate. Realizing that two ice streams had formed on her now pale cheeks, Cameron secured her quivering hands and swept underneath her eyes. Instead of clearing her tears, more flowed out. Cameron let it be. It was something out of her command.

Looking into the rear view mirror, the driver noticed the state his passenger was in. "Ay. You alright?" he asked quietly. Cameron nodded silently and closed her eyes; she shed another swell of tears.

By the time she had paid the driver very generously and walked through the grand automatic doors of the airport, Cameron had gotten herself together. Apart from the slight redness of her eyes, she looked unperturbed. A plan had somehow formulated itself inside her head and now she was searching wildly with her eyes, Cameron hoped to spot the— _Ah! There it is! _She walked briskly over to the ticketing counter, where she was greeted with a friendly smile.

"Good morning ma'am." The young man said, "May I help you?"

"When is the next flight to Russia?" Cameron calmed herself.

"Which city specifically?" the man inquired patiently.

"Uh . . ." _Shoot. Didn't think of that yet . . . _". . . Sorry, you see . . . I'm visiting a friend and you know . . . Russian names." Cameron let out an awkward laugh.

The man hid his confusion and gave an encouraging smile. "Take your time, ma'am. There aren't so many travelers this early in the morning, or we would certainly ask you to step out of the line." He paused when he saw a flicker of urgency in the woman's eyes. " . . . Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Umm . . . you know what. I just need to get on the next flight to Russia. I don't care where." A pleading tone was starting to emerge. ". . . Anywhere."

The young man appeared even more puzzled now, but experience taught him not to question his customer's reason. That was left to the custom officials. _Yeah . . . those guys with the real jobs . . . _"Alright then. Hold on one moment." He turned his attention to the computer screen and inputted something on the keyboard with great efficiency. "Here we go. Boarding at 6:30am, around 2 hours away from now, Boeing 747 will be leaving for the coastal city of Magadan. The duration of the flight is approximately 3 hours. A short trip."

"Oh yes! I remember, that's where . . . Thomas said he lived." Cameron forced a smile, hoping it would cover up her pathetic attempt at a lie. She was never good at them. Even and especially as a journalist, she believed in providing people with accurate information. In other words: _the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. _Evidently, this has gotten her into a lot of distressing situations.

"That's great." The ticket attendant played along. "May I please see your passport?"

As Cameron rummaged through her handbag, hidden in the shadows nearby, a pair of ice crystals traced her every move. With a steady hand, the owner of the eyes pressed and held a button on his walky-talky. He brought it against his pale lips and spoke with a heavy Australian accent. "T-7 reporting. She's headed for Magadan on Boeing 747 at 6:30am. Over."

"Good work." The feed form the tiny sound transmitter in his ear was somewhat distracted by static. "Security is too tight in the airport. Finish her off once the plane touches down. She'll be helpless in Russia. The fool . . . Board the same plane and keep an eye on her. I'll send the others over in the jet."

The man tagged as T-7 re-held the button. "Understood. Over and out."

Moving out of the shadows, he took a position behind Cameron, making somewhat of a line. His cropped sandy straw hair fell across his eyes, shielding the tiny bit of warmth that was perhaps buried deep inside those icy blues. His gaze strayed ahead, locking in on The Target, who was apparently receiving her ticket from the man behind the counter.

"Thank you very much." Cameron accepted her ticket gratefully. _The sooner I get away, the better. They must still be on my trail . . . _Stepping back absent mindedly, she collided into the man behind her. "Oh excuse me." She said apologetically. Noticing the young man seemed slightly uncomfortable, Cameron quickly added a "Sorry." _Had I bumped into him that hard?_

It has been so long since T-7 had a _real _conversation, he couldn't remember the last time he did. "It's fine." Surprised that he even managed that, he swiftly advanced to the counter.

Resisting the urge to show her bemusement, Cameron went on to gate 56 instead. She found herself a seat and rested her eyes. There was finally peace for her reflect . . .

Back at the ticketing counter, T-7 handed his passport to the man. _So long since I was the **real** me too . . . _The attendant opened the black leathered identification. "So, where will you be headed, Mr. Chase?" he smiled and awaited an answer.

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A/N: Why does every single person have to have blue eyes? It's driving me crazy, arg! Chase, Cameron, House . . . oh yeah, House will be in the first chapter, don't worry ;) this is a prologue after all.**

**I would love feedback :) Mostly curious on your take with AU. **

**ACMD**


	2. One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own House MD; it is affiliated to FOX Broadcasting Network, Heel and Toe Prods., Some Bad Hat Harry Prods., and Shore Prods., etc.

**Parings:** House/Cameron

**Rating: **T

**A/N: Yay I got this done the day after I finished chapter 4 for my other story:) so proud . . . XD**

**Regarding people's eye color, I went back to some House eps and I guess Cameron's eyes are more greenish, so I've changed that, because I don't to get it wrong for the whole story. So thanks reviewers:D (Chase's I'll leave as blue, heh 3)**

**Have fun! ;)**

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The Line Between Truth and Deception _

_One_

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Detective Gregory House stood at the foot of his four wall poster bed in the magnificent, not to mention extremely costly, International Hotel _Chamboreign_ of Nome. In front of him on the silk bed linen, his clothes were sprawled at random. He picked up a faded t-shirt that might once have been sky-blue, and tossed it into the suitcase nearby. 

House glanced at the face of his analog watch, there were tiny faces within it that told the date and the changes in the phase of the moon. _Quarter past 4. About 40 hours to go . . . _he reached inside his coat pocket and took out two tickets. A content grin crossed his lips and he began whistling.

With care now, he lifted a jet black suit jacket along with matching dress pants. They looked awfully expensive. House tilted his head back to admire the masterpiece. "Beautiful." He breathed quietly to himself and brushed a fleck of imaginary dust off the shoulders. _You can wear what ever you want other days. But when it comes to the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Symphony, _He gave a low whistle. _You dress, to match their unity. _

House unzipped a protective cover piece and slid it over the suit. He made a single neat fold and placed it inside his suitcase. _And now . . . the essential . . ._ He picked up an extravagant looking white shirt and smoothed out a few creases when the hotel phone rang.

_Rinng . . . rinng . . . _House ignored it and continued packing his belongings. After two more rings, the answering machine picked up. A deep, robotic voice of a man sounded. "Greetings. You have reached room 412 of the International Hotel _Chamboreign_, Nome. Please leave a message after the 'beep'. Note it will be deleted at 2am the following morning. Thank you." As stated, an elongated 'beep' followed closely after.

"House? I know you're there." House rolled his eyes into the back of his head as he recognized the agitated tone of the woman. "House! Pick up the damn phone right now!"

He turned and called out in its direction. "Give it a rest, Cuddy. I'm off all this week, and you know it." He didn't care if it wasn't audible to the other end.

"I sign your paychecks House! If you don't want your ass kicked out, you'd better pick up the phone _right _now!"

_Sheesh . . . if any of the maids checked this message, they'd have a heart attack. _He exhaled and moved over to the phone. There was a noticeable limp in his right leg. "What do you want, Cuddy?" he had the cordless to his ear.

"Well. Looks like _that_ worked. I should use it more often." There was a trace of victory in her tone, but then it grew stern. "New case. I need you to find someone for me. Or if you prefer, for the government."

"Why me? I'm on leave, I thought I made it quite clear last time we discussed this."

What sounded like a half-laugh and a half-snort sounded. "Oh yeah. That 'discussion' worked well. I never gave you permission. You practically ran away!"

House could just see Cuddy's eyes widen in frustration, he gloated. "Don't worry, I'm not getting myself a tan in Hawaii to impress you. Alaska's freezing my ass off."

"Exactly what I was about to talk about. Why the hell are you in Alaska?" Cuddy sounded bewildered.

"It's just a leeway stop for my destination. I'm leaving for St. Petersburg in a few hours."

"WHAT?" House frowned and held the phone a foot away form his face, the shouting continued. "You're going to _Russia_?"

"Can you talk any louder? I don't think I can hear you." He called out sarcastically, keeping the distance between him and the phone. "St. Petersburg Philharmonic's concert." He paused. "Jealous? Well . . . I do have two tickets . . ." he trailed off, sneering at the thought of Cuddy falling into his trap.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Cuddy was obviously both shocked and bemused by House's offer. "Umm . . . well, work here—"

House cut her off. "You didn't let me finish. Two tickets. One for me, and the other for my suitcase, which will also serve as breathing space." He looked smug.

On the other end, in the supervisor's office of FBI's administrative building, Cuddy's jaws dropped in disgust. "That was _not_ necessary." _Bastard. I can't believe he played me like that. _She growled, partly at House, and partly at herself.

A handsome man with warm chestnut eyes entered the office and slapped a pile of documents down on her desk. "That's the latest on Tay Volgler. Apparently, he learned a thing or two from his old man . . ." he arched his eyebrows. "Is House on the line?" he asked, knowing the disgust on Cuddy's face was reserved for one man.

Cuddy nodded. "Most unfortunately." She turned back into the phone. "You're on this case and that's final. I need a little peace and quiet . . . Wilson's going to explain to you the situation." She quickly shoved the phone to the man before she heard another word from House. Wilson gave a reassuring nod, leaving Cuddy with the paperwork.

"House? It's Wilson."

"I'm telling you, I'm busy the next few days. Get what's-his-name to deal with it. You know, the guy that only owns one shirt."

"Don't make up your mind so soon. This might clear up your schedule." Wilson smirked. "The woman is in her mid-twenties. Dark, long auburn hair, a pair of irresistible clear green eyes—"

"And that's supposed to affect me how . . .?" House cocked his head to one side. "You know what I think Wilson? I think this is the perfect case for you." He wasn't even kidding.

"I know." Wilson decided to go along with him. "Too bad they assigned it to the great Agent House."

"I'll gladly let you take my place."

"As much as I'd like that, I'm afraid it's not possible. I'm still leashed onto the Volgler case." He sighed. FBI has been dealing with the guy for over a decade, and now his son just appeared, things were getting out of hand. "We know there's some sort of a connection between the two cases. But we need you to confirm that by bringing the journalist in. Allison Cameron."

House was not surprised. "So it's about the Cameron character after all . . ." His mind ticked. This was something he had wanted to further investigate, _there's so much more to find out. _"Interesting." House decided to take the case, maybe if he got lucky, he could resolve it quickly and not miss the concert. _Fat chance. _"Make me a deal Wilson. What do I get out of this?"

Wilson beamed and flashed a thumbs up at Cuddy, he knew it meant House had accepted the task. "FBI tracking identified that she's leaving on Boeing 747 at 6:30am. You'd better hurry. We bought you a ticket already, first class of course."

"In other words, no benefits for me." House waited for a generous offer, he knew it was coming.

"Alright" Cuddy was back on the line. "Get this figured out, and you can get your stupid break."

"How long?" House was not satisfied, not yet.

Cuddy inhaled, forcing herself to stay calm. "Three days."

"Seven"

"Five. No more."

"Two weeks." House laughed inwardly as he heard Cuddy give a small growl of defeat.

"Fine! A week it is." The line clicked dead. House grinned haughtily as he placed the phone back in its holder. "Better get going." He packed the last of his possessions and grabbed his cane.

> > >

Cameron flipped open her cell phone. "6:22." She read the time to herself, the plane should be boarding any second now. She shoved it back in her coat pocket and stood up to stretch her arms out. Her whole body ached form the chase.

Seeing that two flight attendants dressed in royal blue uniforms had opened up the gate, she slung her handbag over her shoulder and picked up the black folder. There weren't much people boarding, Cameron noticed. _Then again, it **is** October and I'm going to Russia. Real smart Allison. _It was too late to change anything now, she headed to the gate.

"Good morning ma'am." A tall woman smiled and took her ticket, processing it through the machine in front her. "First class is to the left when you come across a fork." She gestured to the path that led to the plane. "Enjoy your flight." She handed the ticket back to her.

"Thank you." Cameron smiled. She started into the temporarily made passage without a glance back.

> > >

"Boeing 747 calling for Mr. Gregory House. Please proceed to Gate 56. Last call for Mr. Gregory House. Boeing 747 will be departing . . ." The speakers that lined the airport lobbies blasted away as House hobbled to his destination as fast as he could manage. "Oh shut the hell up!" He ignored the disapproving stares from a few passer-bys.

The flight attendant had started to relocate the ticket confirmation machines when House waved his ticket under her nose. The plump woman frowned slightly, but did her best to look patient. "I presume you're Mr. Gregory House?" she ran the ticket through a machine and handed it back to him. ""First class is to the left of the fork." She smiled.

House caught his breath and headed for the plane. On the way there he took out his Vicodin bottle and dry swallowed three pills. It was supposed to relieve his pain but House didn't feel it working when he struggled into the first class cabinet.

"Sir? Would you like any assistance?" a tall woman inquired. House waved her off and took a few more pills. _Only 2 damn hours of preparation time. What are they, trying to kill me? _He plopped into the nearest velvet covered seat. Something hard underneath him caused him to grunt. "Damn it." He took out the object and stared. It was a rich dark-leathered handbag.

". . . Excuse me?" House jumped and looked up for the source of the voice. A pair of lucid sea green orbs glistened back at him. Beneath them, the woman's crimson red lips parted hesitantly. ". . . I think that belongs to me . . ."

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A/N: I'm so glad that the basic intro is done. Now we can actually get on to character interaction! –cheers- **

**Appreciate any comments:)**

**ACMD**


	3. Two

**Disclaimer:** I do not own House MD; it is affiliated to FOX Broadcasting Network, Heel and Toe Prods., Some Bad Hat Harry Prods., and Shore Prods., etc.

**Parings:** House/Cameron

**Rating: **T

**A/N: Yes I'm back with chapter Two. Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers :) love y'all! (I know it's been a while, you probably don't remember what happened before this . . . sorry)**

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The Line Between Truth and Deception

_Two_

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"O-of course." House stumbled as he handed her the handbag. He forced himself to break eye contact and failed.

"Thanks." Cameron detached one of her hands from the dark folder and reunited with her leather bag. Something about the stranger's brilliant blue eyes kept her gaze unstirred. _Snap out of it! _She blinked and shook her head slightly. "Um, and I believe this is my seat." Unzipping the bag, Cameron rummaged for her ticket.

"Ah of course." House paused. _Didn't I just say that? _". . . Again." He strained a small smiled and started to get up. "Damn." House frowned as his leg gave in. _Why **now**. _"Sorry." He muttered and tried to push himself up. He had bent his elbows and pressed his palms against the armrest on either side.

"No no, don't be. Let me help." Cameron felt a pang of guilt; the man obviously had an injured leg. She set her possessions down quickly and slipped her arm in beside his, her other hand resting on his upper arm for support. The solid tone of his muscles came as a pleasant surprise. Cameron pushed it out of her mind and focused on the situation at hand.

"No need, I'm fine." House lied. The pain made him grind his jaws together. _Help from a beautiful woman just to get out of a seat? That's pathetic, Greg. _With a last push, he managed to stand up and shove a handful of Vicodin pills in his mouth.

Cameron opened her mouth to question as the stranger's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, accenting his swallow. She thought better of it and suppressed her curiosity. "Are you alright, sir?"

House nodded, leaning on his cane. "Fine thanks . . . House."

"I'm sorry?"

"No need for that 'sir' business. Call me House."

Cameron smiled and extended out her hand. "Allison. Nice to meet you."

House eyed her outstretched hand and took it uncertainly. A handshake wasn't in the standard procedure of introducing one self to a stranger you happened to meet on an airplane. At least not in all the years he had known. But the grip he received was genuine and without hesitation. Though seemingly delicate, House felt the callus on her fingers. He was about to comment when the speakers overhead sounded.

A wave of flight attendants followed soon after, ushering the passengers into their seats and securing their seat belts. House found his seat to be the one next to the woman. _Allison's her name . . . I think._

As Boeing 747 lifted off into the air and started its steady incline, House turned his head. "So, what do you write?" he said, over the noise of the air flow.

Cameron widened her eyes. "How do you know I write?"

_I'm a detective. _House grinned as he thought. "Oh I know a lot more than that . . ." he arched his brows. ". . . Ms. Cameron."

Cameron's jaws dropped in both shock and confusion. The roar of the piercing air pressure was at its climax in her ears. She stared in bewilderment at the smugness on House's face and shouted something inaudible. He could form out what she was saying, but pretended he could not comprehend. Cameron was left dangling in the nauseating noise.

> > >

"So it was the callus on my hand?" Cameron was studying intently at her palms. "And by that, you drew to the conclusion that I am a writer? How do you know my name?"

Boeing had reached its desired height and was now flying steadily through the cold atmosphere. An attendant came forth and asked for their order of beverages. House took a cup of black coffee an ignored both of Cameron's questions. "Why _did _you decide to write that article?" he wrapped his fingers around the cup and let its warmth flow up his veins.

"What?" Cameron did her best to suppress her alarm. "I-I don't know what you're talking about." She avoided his gaze by choosing a drink absent mindedly. "What article?"

House chuckled softly. _Ah . . . playing innocent isn't going to work on me. _"You know what I'm talking about." He glanced at the flight attendant, precautions definitely needs to be taken around the public. "Don't worry though, I won't spill your secret. Not here in the first class cabin of a passenger plane. Even if it _is _full of rich snobs that don't give a damn what's happening in the world. Well . . . as long as their 3 million dollars silverware isn't affected."

House felt a disapproving stare from the attendant, but he couldn't help but look smug. He also couldn't deny the fact that he was somewhat surprised when his new found company let out a small laugh. One would think she'd find this not even the least amusing. "Very true." She nodded. "But just for your information, I don't own anything remotely close to a set of plates worth 3 million dollars."

"Oh I don't know about that, but you sure are wealthy. How much does a high-profiled journalist make a year? $90,000? That's more than a de—" House caught himself just in time. _Shit. Wouldn't want to be giving away **that **piece of information. _"—more than a decade's worth of greens I'll ever get. And as for the snob part . . ."

Cameron silenced him with a raised eyebrow, almost daring him to go on. At that moment, she felt something between them. There was a . . . connection, was the only way she could put it. He was certainly easy to be around with.

Cameron opened her mouth to question his thoughts on her being a journalist when an "ahem" came from above. She looked up and saw an irritated flight attendant. "I'm sorry ma'am, but there _are _other passengers waiting to be served and if you don't decide—"

"—oh I'm so sorry, I forgot about this. Umm . . ." Cameron felt her cheeks flush and bit her lip. She had perhaps enjoyed their conversation just a little too much. "I'll uh, take the latté thanks." She had her lips pursed as the uniformed woman set her drink down and marched on to the next passenger with her trolley.

"Hmm. 'Guess they're human after all eh? They _do _have a patience span like the rest of us, interesting." House took a swig of his coffee.

Cameron muffled a laugh. She cupped the latté in her hands and raised it slightly to take in its sweet aroma. "Mm . . . airplane food isn't actually so bad."

House arched his brows. "Then you definitely need to try their casserole." He shivered and added sarcastically. "_De_licious." Taking out a set of headphone from the side pocket of his seat, House started experimenting with the selection controls.

"You must do this a lot then, since you know." Cameron touched her lips to the foam of her latté and took a sip.

"Oh yes, music is life." House's fingers were taking on a life of their own as they started drumming to the beat of the music. With his free hand, he brought it up and tapped it above his mouth, communicating silently to Cameron with a flicker of his eyes.

"Hmm . . ? Oh! Thanks." The young woman realized that her upper lip was rimmed with the latté foam and quickly dabbed it off with a napkin. _Real smooth Allison. _"And actually, I meant traveling by plane, but I agree. Music is incredible. You can express every one of the emotions a human being can feel, and more." She now had her own headphones over her ears. "What are you listening to?"

"Go to 38." House had his eyes closed.

"Jazz huh?" the seamless flow of a saxophone sounded in Cameron's ears.

"The mortal legend. Sonny Rollins."

And for a long time after that, not a single word was exchanged between the two. Not that there needed to be. The music spoke out to them clearer than anything ever could.

When House's eyes slowly opened and started to focus, he was not aware of the fact that Cameron had fallen asleep. Fatigue had finally taken over after everything that happened at dawn. She was dreaming of Him. _"Allison, I love you. Promise me you'll find happiness again." _His voice seemed so far away. "I love you too . . ." Cameron's mumble caught House off guard. ". . . Come back . . ."

"Al—Ms—" House didn't know how to address her. One was too formal and the other too intimate. "Al-lison . . ." he forced it out of himself with a small knit of his brows. Seeing as she seemed not to be roused, House gave up. He reached over and removed her headphones, grimacing as his hand brushed a lock of her soft auburn hair. It was so long ago since he'd been this close to a woman, but he could remember it as if it were yesterday.

Back in Cameron's mind, He spoke again. _"Promise me Allison." _He was slowly fading away, she wanted to reach out and hold Him, never let go again. "No, come back." She muttered softly. _"Promise me . . ."_

"I . . . promise . . ." she trailed off and sank back into a deep sleep.

House watched her mumble in her sleep, unaware. _Come back? So she lost someone . . . _His closed his eyes as he thought of his own loss.

Hurriedly shoving it out of his mind, for now, House stopped a passing uniformed woman. "A blanket if you could." He gestured toward the resting figure beside him.

He nodded his thanks when the woman returned and laid a warm blanket over Cameron. She gave a grateful smile. "Thank you, sir. That's very thoughtful of you."

House looked away. "I'm uh . . . just . . ."

The flight attendant nodded knowingly. "I know. Thank you." She left as another passenger waved her over.

House cursed at himself under his breath. Leaning his head against the window, he watched the soft clouds drift by. _It's too bad I have to do this to her . . . but it's the job._

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A/N: And there'll be no more smooth sailing after this :)

**ACMD**


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